


Domestic Pause

by kylee



Category: Rosencrantz & Guildenstern are Dead
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-21
Updated: 2010-03-21
Packaged: 2017-10-08 04:42:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/72799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kylee/pseuds/kylee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I would like to establish what is known as a comfortable silence." (Written in 2005.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Domestic Pause

"Listen," begins Guildenstern at once, rapid and abrupt, cutting through whatever topic at hand into the newest natural non sequitur. "I would like to establish what is known as a comfortable silence. Put simply, that means a moment shared by two parties, namely you, namely me, namely the both of us, in which there is no discourse or conversation, no discussion or debate, no words exchanged at all but only a basic understanding of closeness and camaraderie. Put _painfully_ simply, that means that I won't be talking to you, and you won't be talking to me. But somehow -- somehow, I suppose, we won't be any worse off for it. Do you follow me?"

"All right, then." Rosencrantz nods, brightly. "But --"

"But what?"

"But words," he says, glancing around the room, considering the fourth wall for an instant than blinking away from it. "And conversation. Question and answer, aren't they all we've got to go on?"

"They are. Or rather, they were. But. I would very much like to see if there's something else." With an effort, "Humor me."

"Ah." Rosencrantz nods again, still brightly. "Right."

At that, at once, the two sit down, falling back to back like two sides of a coin. And then the silence.

For his part, Rosencrantz starts to look around the room again -- stage right, stage left, and back again, not sure which is which. He tries to stretch his legs, and ends up hugging them to his chest. He thinks a little about, how, if he looks up at the light and doesn't quite close his eyes, he can see the different colors reflected in his eyelashes, colors that don't come from anywhere at all. Unless they _were_ the light itself, divided -- he turns to Guildenstern to ask, but then remembers the silence.

Guildenstern, in his best attempts to ignore it, crosses his own arms, pulls in his cloak. The two sit a bit more, restless.

Rosencrantz leans back against him.

Guildenstern pretends he doesn't tense.

In an innocent whisper, "Is this comfortable enough, then?"

"Rosencrantz," begins Guildenstern again, with tight control.

"Who?"

Suddenly, Guildenstern turns and seizes Rosencrantz by the shoulders, spins him around. Their heads meet. The kiss is simple, understood -- desperate, exasperated, and utterly heartfelt.

Rosencrantz blinks, once. Then he smiles.

"Well, you could've just _said_ so," he says, and Guildenstern sighs against his lips.

"No. No, I don't think I could."


End file.
